


Sojourn

by wellperhaps



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Drunken sex, Getting Together, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Sleep Sex, Stuck in a Cabin, therefore consent issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 13:20:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17122145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wellperhaps/pseuds/wellperhaps
Summary: Dorian supposed their current quarters could be considered an improvement to sleeping in tents, if you didn’t mind the lack of privacy. Dorian very much minded.*Thank you, writer_interrupted for excellent beta <3 This turned out to be a complete trope fic, whoops. Happy holidays! :D





	Sojourn

Dorian woke up to the sound of rain and let out a resigned sigh. There was no way they could continue their mission today, not in weather like this. At least the wind was no longer howling. The fire in the hearth was burning low, just enough to keep the damp from creeping in through the cabin walls. The Iron Bull must have gotten up in the early morning hours to stoke it without Dorian noticing.

The qunari was now sleeping not two feet away from him. The sound of him snoring wasn’t that different from the distant rumble of thunder they had heard yesterday. Bull’s blanket was pooled in his lap and he had one arm thrown behind his head. He looked quite comfortable, despite his horn digging into the flesh of his forearm. Dorian supposed their current quarters could be considered an improvement to sleeping in tents, if you didn’t mind the lack of privacy. Dorian very much minded. He was huddled inside his blankets and wearing all of the spare clothes that had been dry enough to sleep in. The room was tiny. They had had to push the table against the wall to even be able to spread their bedrolls on the floor. The actual cot meant for sleeping was by no means big enough for Dorian, let alone Bull. There was also a kitchen of sorts, even smaller and more cluttered than the main room. At least the fireplace was in working condition.

Bull’s chest was rising and falling steadily. He had taken the blunt end of an axe to his pectoral three days ago, and the dark bruising was clearly visible even in the low firelight. It had been a bad fight. Lavellan and Sera, escorted by scouts, had probably already found their way back to the nearest Inquisition camp. Their various injuries had made it unwise for them to continue. Bull and Dorian had stayed behind with the intention of finishing the mission. Nothing terribly difficult, just a hunt for an interesting magical artefact that might prove to be useful. Then last night, the storm had taken them by surprise, and they had been forced to seek shelter.

At least the cabin was now almost warm. They had dried themselves and their gear up the best they could, but Dorian could see there were still streaks of dirt on Bull’s skin. He did not want to think about what he himself must look like.

Bull stirred, managing to both jostle Dorian’s pack with his foot and scrape the wall with his horn without even moving all that much. The man took up so much space everywhere he went. It was very inconvenient. It occurred to Dorian he should take care of his morning necessities before Bull woke up, to make the most of this small window of privacy. Reluctantly he got up and made his way out of to the cold rain.

When Dorian returned inside, soaking wet and shivering, Bull was already up and making breakfast. The sweet, rich scent of the Par Vollen tea was competing with the smell of wet leather. The tea seemed to be winning. Small mercies.

Bull looked up at Dorian. “Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

“Surely you have no business asking anyone that. But if you must know, I took a bath of sorts. The only good thing about this weather is that the rainwater barrel is always full. It was very invigorating, I do recommend you try it.”

“Oh, are we back to this then? It’s been weeks since you last insulted my hygiene.” 

That hadn’t, in fact, been Dorian’s intention. Somewhere along their endless walking and fighting, and especially after Bull’s exile from the Qun, Dorian had stopped thinking about Bull as a threat. After that, trying to get a rise out of him felt petty and childish at best. The man was a loud brute with a filthy mouth, but what did that have to do with Dorian? So lately he had left the man well enough alone. There were, of course, other reasons to avoid him, but Dorian wasn’t going to think about those. Especially not now, standing there half naked and feeling like a wet dog, with the qunari staring at him with his eyebrow raised. Dorian quickly wrapped himself in his blanket.

“Well, I cannot imagine you would enjoy sharing these spacious quarters with an unwashed person either. The Maker knows the smell of our gear is abysmal enough, no need to add to the tragedy.”

Bull shrugged. “Sure. Have some tea. Warm you up.”

Dorian accepted the warm cup. A little later, to Dorian’s surprise, Bull did decide to go outside for a bath.

By noon the rain had let up enough for them to take a better look at their surroundings. Whoever had lived in the little hut had most likely left only recently, in a hurry to avoid the unrest in the area. The cottage itself was run down, but the view of the river and the surrounding meadows made up for it. Dorian thought that if you ignored the rain and the mud the river would probably look quite lovely. Bull and Dorian found a small weed-infested vegetable garden, and, more importantly, a cellar. Bull couldn’t fit through the door, so it was up to Dorian to investigate. He rummaged through the various containers.

“Spirits!” he announced to Bull who was unhelpfully shadowing the doorway.

“The good kind, I hope,” Bull said.

“The alcoholic kind. I can’t imagine what sort of spirit would choose to live in a cellar full of moss and preserves.”

“The spirit of perseverance,” Bull said, with glee. 

“Maker have mercy.”

Then, because even the clouds disapproved of the Iron Bull’s sense of humor, the rain started up again. They had to make a run for it, cradling a miscellaneous collection of jars and bottles in their arms.

 

*

In the evening, well, late afternoon perhaps, Dorian popped open one of the mysterious basement bottles and lifted it to his nose.

“Ah! Good old moonshine! This brings back memories. Well. Memories of memory loss, as it were.” 

“Careful. You don’t know if it’s any good. People have gone blind from that,” Bull said.

“That’s what they told me about masturbation,” Dorian said, cheerful, and took a swig from the bottle. 

 

*

As the evening crawled along, Dorian dearly wished they had brought playing cards with them. There was precious little to do in the cabin except to get drunk. Bull was contemplating the merits of mixing moonshine with preserved peaches they had found in one of the jars.

“The alcohol could kill whatever fungus might be living in the peaches,” Dorian noted. “Did you know that the Southerners don’t know about any of that? I once heard a surgeon suggest that prayer helps keep wounds from getting infected because it scares off the demons that feed on flesh. Truly. Just pour some alcohol on it and call it a day.”

Bull laughed.

“Yeah. It’s mostly just the nobles and their most expensive lackeys who fall for bullshit like that, though. The cooks and the midwives and the hedge healers know the real stuff. They can keep people’s wounds clean. And their peaches edible.”

“If that was innuendo I am going to strangle you with my dainty mage hands.”

“It wasn’t! Too bad, that would have been a good one. Peaches, mm.”

Dorian rolled his eyes as Bull wiggled his eyebrows. Then Bull crouched to add more wood into the fire. Dorian leaned back against the wall and watched him. The firelight reflected off his skin differently than it would off a human’s skin, but that wasn’t what caught Dorian’s eye.

Here, in the warmth of the cabin, relaxed and a little drunk, Bull looked very different than out in the field. Without his wide belt, the strangely hairless curve of his belly looked very soft as he kneeled in front of the fire. The muscles of his big arms weren’t as defined and imposing. Dorian had seen the warrior in action countless of times, and he knew what that body looked like when taken to its limits in a fight, how the veins stood out against scarred skin.

Dorian had also seen Bull relaxed before, or so he had thought, drinking with his men, boisterous and imposing even then. This was different. There were no rough edges, no performance, just a man quietly tending to the fire. Perhaps Bull was like this every night at camp. Dorian didn’t know. He was usually one of the first to retire to his tent, still somewhat unaccustomed to the hardship of travel as he was.

“How old are you, the Iron Bull?”

“Huh? Older than you, Vint. You know, Sera asked me the same question not three weeks ago. Don’t you worry, in Par Vollen we don’t really celebrate stuff like that, so you don’t have to plan any surprise parties for me.”

“Why, Bull, are you being touchy about your age? This is delightful. I must tell Varric.”

“You should. Then I can describe to him the face you made when I told you that you have spider webs in your moustache.”

“A low blow, my friend. Fine, keep your secrets. In any case, I think I will retire to my sleeping quarters now.”

“Your sleeping quarters.”

“Yes. I’m choosing to sleep in the dawnstone themed bedchamber tonight. If you need me, I’ll be in the eastern wing. Don’t choke on any peaches. Good night.”

With that, Dorian went to lie down on his bedroll. He pulled the blankets over his head and closed his eyes. It wasn’t really late enough to be sleeping, but he didn’t feel like drinking anymore. He also suspected getting drunk with a former Ben-Hassrath agent to whom he had certain… responses, was not the best of ideas. Best to sleep it off.

He could hear Bull shuffling about, arranging the bottles and the jars. He could also smell him on the blankets. He had to admit It wasn’t at all disagreeable, if somewhat distracting. Dorian was too tired and pleasantly drunk for any serious contemplation, but he did wonder why did these things never go his way? In Tevinter, where he should have been courting noble women, he was drawn to their beautiful brothers instead. And here in the South, where lovely, reasonably well-bred men were indeed available, he found his eyes lingering somewhere else again. Was it in his nature to only want things that were just out of his reach? Men who were not inclined to offer what he had always… what he occasionally let himself think about.

Be that as it may, Dorian was warm and safe, and that was something he had grown to appreciate. The crackling of the fire was a comfort. It didn’t take him long to fall asleep.

*

He woke up to a loud crash.

“Fuck,” the Iron Bull said, mildly. “Sorry. I dropped a pan.”

“A pan. Did you get a craving for an omelette in the middle of the night?” Dorian said, annoyed.

“Nah. I was going through stuff. I wanted to find sugar. Nevermind. The peaches aren’t half bad without it. Want some?”

“You wake me up in the middle of the night and then try to offer me some sort of horrible hootch peaches? Unacceptable. Is there a spoon?” 

Dorian sat up, still wrapped in his blanket, and accepted the little cup Bull offered him. They sat next to each other, gingerly sampling their bizarre refreshments. Dorian had to admit he had eaten worse things. Suddenly, Bull started to chuckle to himself.

“What?” Dorian demanded.

“Horrible hootch peaches,” Bull snorted, and kept right on giggling.

“Shut it,” Dorian said, his lips twitching. “It’s a perfectly good name for a drink, or whatever this is. We should introduce it to Cabot when we get back to Skyhold. It will be a hit over at the Herald’s rest.”

“Dorian’s Horrible Hootch Peaches,” Bull wheezed, “straight… straight from Tevinter. Or we could sell it to the Orlesians. We’d call it… we’d call it the Spirit of Perseverance.”

“I hope Andraste preserves you. How many peaches did you have, Bull?”

“I’m good for one more,” he answered, and reached over to take a slice from Dorian’s cup. Dorian exclaimed in mock outrage and grabbed his wrist. It was no use, he couldn’t even slow Bull down. He was still holding on when Bull brought the peach slice to his mouth. It took Dorian a little while, but he did eventually remember to let go. He set his cup aside and folded his hands in his lap, embarrassed.

“Your nail polish is almost gone,” Bull said, suddenly solemn. Dorian looked up at him, surprised.

“Well, yes, this nomadic lifestyle doesn’t really lend itself well for maintaining civilized grooming habits.” He concentrated on not hiding his hands.

“Pity. I like it.”

“You like… my nail polish?”

“Yeah. It looks nice.”

“Oh. You are a singular person, the Iron Bull.”

“I’ve been told. Okay. I need to piss. And drink some water.”

With that, Bull heaved himself up. He went outside, letting the cool night air in. Dorian was left sitting in the dark with his blanket around him. Bizarre, he thought, before settling down and falling promptly back asleep.

 

*

Dorian woke with his face pressed into the pillow. The warm weight on top of him shifted, and Dorian rocked with it. He sighed. He was pleasantly hard, his cock trapped under him. He wanted to get his hand down there, but he was so firmly pressed against the bedroll it was difficult to move. He tried anyway. He pushed his hips up and felt something wet poke at his thigh. He kept pushing, moving with it. He was very comfortable, here in his soft cocoon of pressure and arousal, but slowly the hazy remnants of sleep started to evaporate. He woke up gradually, becoming more aware with every breath he took.

It was still dark in the cabin. He couldn’t move his arm because his side was trapped against the cabin wall. His blanket was gone and his tunic was pushed up to his waist, but he wasn’t cold because… because he was under the Iron Bull. The qunari had thrown his heavy thigh over Dorian’s leg. His stomach was pressed to Dorian’s side. Dorian could feel the man’s cock move against his leg, nudging at the meat of his ass. It was leaving wet trails on his skin. A small, needy sound escaped Dorian’s lips at that.

Oh Maker.

It was clear that Bull was still asleep. Dorian should get away from under him, quickly, before he woke up. Then he could pretend it had never happened, and Bull would never know. That would be the right thing to do. But he was trapped against the wall.

Bull’s hand started moving. It found Dorian’s other hip, the one currently not being painted with qunari cock. He didn’t grab at Dorian, but instead moved his fingertips along his ass and hipbone in irregular, odd little motions. Dorian shifted his weight a little, turning to his side as much as he could. Bull grunted, pushed his cock harder against his ass. Dorian could hardly breathe. He should stop this now. He wanted to guide Bull’s hand to his cock. Would he curl his fingers around it on instinct? He wanted to turn around and see for himself if the head of Bull’s cock was as wet and big as it felt against him. He wasn’t going to do that. Maybe he could use magic to keep Bull asleep while he made his escape. He wasn’t going to do that either. Kaffas.

“Ah. Bull. You should… you should probably wake up now.” Any attempt at keeping his voice steady was forgotten when Bull pulled him closer, holding him by the hip. The qunari grunted into his shoulder as Dorian tried not to groan. This would be an excellent time for the Ben-Hassrath training to kick in.

“Mmh.”

That was a tongue against his neck.

“Please. I need to, ah, I need you to talk to me, Bull. Are you awake?”

“You’re warm. Let me...” Bull mumbled and thrust against him again.

Perhaps it was Dorian’s moan that finally got to Bull, because his hips stilled, and when he spoke, he sounded considerably more lucid.

“Dorian?”

“Yes.”

Lust and fear were curling inside Dorian’s stomach. Bull’s hand on his hip felt like it was burning him. Maybe Bull had not yet noticed how hard Dorian was. Maybe Dorian could still walk away from this with his dignity intact. With a soft sigh, he rolled his hips against Bull. Or perhaps not.

“Yeah? Yes?” Bull’s voice was rough with sleep and his cock was still hard against Dorian’s ass, but Dorian knew the man was back to his senses. Dorian was free to get up. He should get up.

“Please. Oh. Kaffas, your cock.” Then again, perhaps it was Dorian who had lost all sense.

“Fuck, Dorian.”

Bull moved over Dorian then, maneuvering him to his stomach and pushing his thighs together. Then he started thrusting. Dorian whimpered when Bull’s cock slid between his thighs, pushing against his balls. He was aching. He reached with one hand to touch himself, and to touch Bull whenever he could. His tunic was pushed up to his armpits as Bull moved him against the bedroll.

It didn’t take Dorian long before he was coming, making a mess of his hand and the bedding. Above him, Bull growled. Dorian wanted to see him. He wanted to touch Bull’s cock with his wet hand.

Instead, he felt Bull lift him by the hips and push his shoulders down. Strong hands spread his knees apart. He was spent and gasping, put on display. Indecent. He couldn’t find it in himself to move a muscle.

“Fucking gorgeous,” Bull said. His cock hit against Dorian’s ass with an obscene slap. He felt himself shudder. He wanted to look, but he could only listen to the low growls and the wet noises of Bull fucking his own fist. Soon Dorian felt the hot ropes of Bull’s seed hit his ass and his back. He let the weight of Bull’s body push him down against the bedroll.

Oh, Maker, what a mess.

 

*

 

When Dorian next opened his eyes, he found himself warm and comfortable. He was naked, but firmly tucked under two blankets. He vaguely remembered Bull using his tunic to wipe them both down after… after. Dorian looked up. The qunari in question was sitting on the bedroll with his legs crossed, cradling a cup of tea. Naked. He didn’t look bothered at all, of course, the lout. Dorian’s tunic had been hung to dry by the fire.

“Hey. Want me to pour you a cup or do you want to sleep some more? It’s still early.”

Dorian groaned. The mortification rushed in and combined with the urgent need to piss. He crawled out from under the blankets and then rushed out of the cabin, taking only his cloak with him.

After taking care of his necessities, and having spent a good while staring at the sky, he realized several things. Firstly, it was no longer raining. Secondly, he was very cold. Thirdly, he could not keep standing there with his bare feet in the mud like a simpleton for one minute longer. He sighed and returned to the cabin.

“You alright?” Bull sounded genuinely worried. He had even found his pants.

“Yes, yes, certainly. Never mind me, I’ll just be over here nursing my embarrassment, I shall be over myself by the time we leave this cabin. It has stopped raining, you see.”

“Yeah. I noticed. Dorian. I’m sorry. That was no way to do things. You were drunk and asleep.”

Dorian looked at Bull.

“Well, so were you, if you recall. You might also remember the things I said, namely, about needing your cock.” That was somewhat easy to say, Dorian was pleased to note. He had never been shy about sex.

“Okay. I’m still sorry. I’ll make you breakfast.” 

Dorian didn’t know what to say, and he certainly was not against breakfast, so he just shrugged. He got dressed in silence while Bull fixed him porridge and tea. Somewhere between his second and third cup, he managed to get himself together enough to speak.

“I’m sorry if I upset you, running off like that. Most childish of me. I assure you, what happened was not your fault. If anything, it was mine. I should have woken you up sooner.”

Bull looked at him, contemplating.

“It’s not your fault either. We went asleep drunk, woke up horny. It happens.”

“I suppose.”

“I like you, Dorian. I hope I didn’t fuck things up.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. We can surely handle this like adults and continue to be amicable toward each other out on the field. I’m sure this is not the first time you’ve had sex with someone you work with.”

“No. That’s not what I mean.”

There was an odd tone to Bull’s voice. His brow was furrowed, and he was looking at his hands.

“Oh? What then?”

Bull crouched down in front of Dorian.

“It’s been tough, being stuck in this cabin with you. Great, but tough. I can smell you all the time, you know? I want to kiss you. I don’t remember the last time I’ve really wanted to do that. Only that.”

“Didn’t we do that, last night? No, I suppose we didn’t. Ah, I...” Dorian closed his mouth to stop himself from rambling. Bull’s face was rather close now. It wouldn’t take much to lean towards him and…

“We didn’t,” Bull confirmed. “That’s good. I’d like to do it right. If you want to. I don’t know anything about this stuff. Bas shit, I used to think. Fuck.”

Bull took a deep breath, and then, to Dorian’s dismay, he stood up again.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t bother you right now. I’ll go outside for a bit so you can have some space.”

Bull turned to go. Dorian stood up.

“That’s not necessary. Bull.”

He placed a hand on Bull’s shoulder. Bull froze for a moment, then turned around to face him. His expression was unreadable, but Dorian didn’t care. A strange excitement had taken over him. He wasn’t exactly sure what was happening, but he didn’t need to be. It wasn’t as if this could get any more complicated.

“Dorian?”

“Yes.”

Dorian had to stand on his toes to reach, but he managed. Bull’s lips were dry against his, rough and scarred. He gasped in surprise against Dorian’s mouth. Perfect.

Dorian took his time, kissing Bull gently until finally he felt big hands coming to rest on his waist, on his shoulder. Bull pulled him in closer, and started kissing him back. It didn’t take long before Dorian was flushed and eager for things to progress further. He was running his hands over Bull’s back, occasionally sliding them to his hips. He could feel Bull grow hard against him. He was just about to explore that, when Bull suddenly stopped.

“Wait,” Bull said. “We should talk.”

“Now? We did well enough without talking last night, surely it can wait?”

Bull just looked at him. Dorian rolled his eyes.

“Yes, alright, fine. What is it?”

“You know how it is under the Qun. I’ve never really done the whole emotions thing. With sex. I really didn’t mean to… advance on you like that. I’m not looking for just a fuck, here. I know I don’t have all that much to offer, and I’ve seen the way some of the noble men look at you, and I understand if...”

Dorian shut Bull up with a shake of his head. Then he cocked his head, contemplating. Bull would not meet his eyes.

“Oh! You’re afraid I’m going to reject you.”

Bull stayed silent, but his ears twitched. A wide smile spread on Dorian’s face. He felt giddy. Several witty responses wanted to come out of his mouth. He dismissed them all and ran his hand along Bull’s cheek instead.

“Well, alright, it isn’t as though I’m immensely experienced in things like this. But I assure you, I’m not looking for just a fuck, either, as you so elegantly put it. Not with you.”

Bull took a deep breath, then nodded. Dorian thought he looked relieved. Dorian certainly was.

“We’re intelligent men. We can figure it out as we go. Right now I am, however, looking forward to sucking your cock. How about it?”

Bull huffed a laugh, shook his shoulders. When he looked at Dorian, he was smiling.

“Glad we had this talk,” he said, before gently pushing Dorian down to his knees. Dorian went, laughing.


End file.
